


A villain's pain

by That_peach_anon



Category: Sanders Sides (Web Series)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Superheroes/Superpowers, Anxiety | Virgil Sanders Needs a Hug, Blood and Injury, Creativity | Roman "Princey" Sanders Needs a Hug, M/M, tw blood
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-22
Updated: 2020-10-22
Packaged: 2021-03-08 21:09:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,005
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27152951
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/That_peach_anon/pseuds/That_peach_anon
Summary: This wasn’t part of Roman’s routine. Usually, he’d wake up, have breakfast, go out for a run, go to work at his local theater, fight crime, do his nightly skincare, and go to sleep. But this was no ordinary day. Apparently, the part of “crime-fighting” had been done for him.
Relationships: Anxiety | Virgil Sanders & Creativity | Roman "Princey" Sanders, Anxiety | Virgil Sanders/Creativity | Roman "Princey" Sanders
Comments: 8
Kudos: 67





	A villain's pain

**Author's Note:**

> Feel free to point out any spelling mistakes and I hope you enjoy it!  
> Tumblr: @that-peach-anon

This wasn’t part of Roman’s routine. Usually, he’d wake up, have breakfast, go out for a run, go to work at his local theater, fight crime, do his nightly skincare, and go to sleep. But this was no ordinary day. Apparently, the part of “crime-fighting” had been done for him.  


He used the term very broadly, he supposed. Stop a couple of muggings; help some women who were followed home, save the occasional hurt animal, light stuff. Things like bank robberies and such would only have his intervention when the police were not able to handle it.  


Being a hero came with the usual shenanigans: get cursed out for stopping crimes, having fans grateful for his work, a few ladies hitting on him (bless their hearts, he was as gay as it could come), and, probably his favorite part, an arch-nemesis. Anxiety.  


Again, being as dramatic and passionate as he was, Roman used the term arch-nemesis very freely, as if that could truly describe how he and his “villain” actually interacted. Their interactions would consist of some small petty crimes Roman would stop Anxiety from doing, a lot of flirting from both sides, and usually a weird fluttery feeling in Roman’s gut when Anxiety left.  


He chalked the last one up to some form of magic his counterpart must be doing (as if! Anxiety’s powers consisted of shadow and anxiety manipulation ((hence why he has the name Anxiety)), and not of ‘good feelings’ manipulation).  


If Roman was to be honest, which he always was thank you very much (he tells himself that white lies don’t count as actual lies), he’d never wish any harm over his nemesis. The guy didn’t do anything too bad and he was always a breath of fresh air during Roman’s nights, so there was that.  


But back to Roman’s routine break. Roman should have probably noticed something was off when there were no alarms sounding at convenience stores or gas stations. He, unfortunately, only noticed something was off when he passed a dark alley.  


Perhaps the first thing that set off warning bells in his head was the strong smell of iron wafting through the air, accompanied by harsh breaths, almost as if the person making the noise wished to be silent.  


Looking to his right, the first thing Roman noticed was the blood droplets on the ground, the liquid still vibrant red, moonlight bouncing off them. Much like Snow White’s apple, the body fluid was intoxicating; a sign of danger, warning that either a) something bad was about to happen or b) had already happened.  


The trail led to a dark corner, shadows hiding a body, wisps of wind helping to carry the steely scent to Roman. Pulling a flashlight from his belt, Roman clicked the device on, eyes darting about as a habit, making sure not to let his guard down. Lifting the metal instrument, Roman illuminated the corner, eyes widening when he caught sight of what, or better yet, who was sitting there.  


Back against the concrete wall was sat Virgil, half-lidded eyes peering at Roman, as if trying to understand if this was a threat. Apparently being able to register who stood before him, Virgil’s eyes looked away, fleeting, looking for an exit.  


“Anxiety?” Roman’s voice had an overwhelming sense of worry that alarmed Virgil, making the villain’s breath hitch.  


“Hey, Princey. Come to kick me while I’m down, huh? Not very noble of you, if you ask me.” Virgil joked, struggling to catch his breath as every intake of air sent a jolt of pain on his chest. He didn’t get a verbal answer, the hero merely reacting by walking closer.  


Virgil’s mind was much too focused on pain to register Roman as a threat, pupils shrinking as the bright light of the flashlight got closer. The dramatic man carefully put the light down, pulling at it to transform it into a makeshift lantern. The glow now was softer, although spreading itself further, providing a beacon in the much too obscure darkness of that alley.  


With a steady hand, Roman softly tilted Virgil’s chin up, eyes analyzing the black eye and numerous purple bruises on the villain’s face. With a much too gentle touch, Roman grazed his thumb over Virgil’s bottom lip, watching as his white glove stained red. The color was mocking, as if showing Roman how he failed to protect Virgil.  


The sitting man’s breath hitched at the action, blue orbs locking at the chocolate-colored circles currently analyzing his face. Tense, Virgil awaits for Roman’s reaction, noticing how the princely man seemed lost in thought, eyes still locked on Virgil’s extremely bloody lips.  


“Anxiety, who did this?” It sounded desperate as if the knowledge of who did this would satisfy Roman as much as water would satisfy a man’s thirst.  


“That’s not important, Princey.” Virgil’s tired answer didn’t quench Roman’s immense curiosity, worry barely contained as he moved his hand to cup Virgil’s face. Subconsciously, the man reacted by leaning against his palm, eyelids drooping more and more by the second.  


“It’s important to me.” Roman quipped back, eyes locking onto Virgil’s, looking for an answer. The villain didn’t provide one, instead letting out a soft breath, the warmth of Roman’s hand on his face feeling comforting. “If they did this to you, then surely it matters.”  


“It really doesn’t, Princey. Besides, isn’t this what a villain like me deserves?” These words were the last ones to escape Virgil’s mouth before he promptly passed out, body slumping, cheek hugged against Roman’s palm, his breathing even and slow, hitting the other’s glove with every exhale.  


Roman only shook his head, hand sliding to hold Virgil’s neck on the crook of his elbow. His other arm went under Virgil’s legs, hooking under them to lift him up. Virgil barely reacted, merely shifting closer to the heat in his sleep. With Virgil in his arms and something like led weighing heart, Roman started walking. He had both “Anxiety” and a real villain to take care of.


End file.
